


Birthday

by deviantjoy



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky’s Birthday, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light Angst, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Endgame, Steve Left But It’s Cool, Sure Sam Pretends He Hates Him but He Cares About Him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23757352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviantjoy/pseuds/deviantjoy
Summary: “Surprise,” Sam said with a smile, gesturing to the crudely-decorated room with his arms wide. “Happy birthday, you son of a bitch.”Bucky stopped in his tracks and stared at the “decorations,” dumbfounded. “What?”“It’s your birthday! Don’t you remember?” Sam said. Then the realization hit him and his smile dropped. “Oh. Yeah. Of course you don’t.“According to Steve,” he continued, “today is your birthday.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first post on ao3! i’m kinda scared it isn’t as good as everything else on here, especially bc it’s pretty short and i wrote it 5 months ago, but i tried :’)

“He told you that?” Bucky asked. He could already feel himself start to hurt again. His birthday. Another thing HYDRA had taken from him. Another thing he had forgotten.

“Yeah. He counted down the days until your birthday. Every year. For three years. And every time your birthday came around, it was the unhappiest he’d be all year,” Sam said. “That’s how much he missed you.”

“So much for that.”

“Come on, lighten up. It’s your birthday! Be happy for once.”

Bucky remained silent, staring at the balloons tied to the chair. The vanilla cupcake on the small dining table with a single lit candle stuck into it. Even the stupid little whiteboard on the fridge now read “Happy birthday Bucky” in messy slanted handwriting. It was terrible, but he was glad for it, though he’d never admit it.

“I thought parties had more people. Or am I remembering that wrong too?”

“No, you’re right, they do. I just… didn’t think there was anyone to invite,” Sam sighed. “Because, well, Nat’s off doing some other important mission, Steve’s gone, and Tony’s… you know. I didn’t really know who else to invite, so… it’s just us.”

“Oh.” Bucky sounded dejected as he spoke. “I… I guess I’m gonna go, then.” He turned to leave, but Sam grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“Oh, no, you’re not going anywhere. Not until you blow out the candle,” he said as Bucky stumbled back.

“Fine,” he groaned. He shook Sam off his arm and went over to the table.

“Don’t forget to make a wish,” Sam teased.

Bucky scoffed and blew out the candle. “Now can I go?”

“No, I’ve got one more thing,” Sam said, turning and pulling open one of the top drawers in the counter behind him. He took out a black leather book. A journal.

“You didn’t think I set all of this up and didn’t get you a birthday present, did you?” he asked, holding the book out.

“Well, I mean…” Bucky took the book and stared at it. The thin fabric bookmark dangled from the top of it. He lifted the cover and tucked the bookmark underneath it, taking a second to look at the first page. It had a box with lines inside of it, one for a name and two for contact information. It wasn’t much, but damn, did he want to cry right then and there.

“Come on. I’m not _that_ mean,” Sam retorted, closing the drawer.

Bucky looked up and raised an eyebrow, as if to say, “you sure about that?”

“Shut up. You know I’m not.”

Bucky scoffed and broke eye contact to look back down at the journal in his hands.

“I got it for you because, well, you’ve been telling me about those… those nightmares you’ve been having ever since Steve left. I know you’ve been really scared you’re gonna lose your memories again, without your journals. So, I thought the least I could do for your birthday is get you something to help, you know?” Sam said. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s… great.” Bucky smiled, as if he’d been in disbelief until then. It was a small gift, but it meant so much nonetheless. Anyone else probably would’ve thought it was dumb, but he was grateful for it, despite not knowing how to show it. He didn’t remember the last time he’d received something for his birthday. He didn’t even remember the last time he’d celebrated it. It may have been a small gift, but he could tell Sam meant the best, and that was enough for him.

“Just ‘great’?”

“I mean, what else do you expect me to say?”

“‘Wow, Sam, I’m so glad you got me this! Thank you! Let me do the dishes for a month!’”

Bucky chuckled. “You know I’m not saying that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Sam said, smiling.

They fell into a comfortable silence as Bucky opened the journal again, this time flipping past the front page. The sound of the page turning was the only thing that disrupted the silence, until Sam broke it.

“Well, you can go now,” he said. “Take the cupcake with you, or I’m eating it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky said, reaching over the chair and picking up the cupcake from the table. “Do you have a pen?”

“Yeah, uh—” He turned and pulled out another drawer, rummaging through it until he found a pen and handed it to Bucky. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Bucky left the kitchen and headed down the hall to his room with his journal tucked under his arm. Dropping the candle into the trash can, he went to his desk and sat down, putting his things on the table.

He opened the journal to the first page and clicked his pen. It had been decades since he last wrote something with pen and paper, so it took some time, but soon he had messily written “James Barnes” on the line labeled “name.” Then he paused, stared at it, and scribbled over the “James,” writing “Bucky” in the empty space above it. On the first line labeled “contact info,” instead of a phone number, he glanced at the calendar hung up on his wall and wrote “March 10, 2023.” Then, on the second line, he wrote, “birthday.”


End file.
